A Dinner For Ghosts
by Popering
Summary: Even if Edward thinks Christmas is a bizarre holiday, he admires the intention. When Alfons brings him to a family dinner, Ed's not sure if he'll be able to keep himself from falling apart. Pre-CoS. Two-shot.
1. Part I

**A/N:** This part is more like a fluffy prologue. This fic is going to be a two-shot because Ed and Alfons always make me end up writing way more than i expect. i guess that's better than the other way around, right? Enjoy some Christmas in June...

* * *

It was a bright, crisp, late-November morning when Ed opened his mouth to ask, very possibly, the stupidest question of his life. It didn't seem stupid to him, but by the looks of things, it would probably appear dumb to his roommate. Ed knew it would've been best to try and figure it out on his own so he wouldn't look like a fool in front of Alfons, but so far all he'd gleaned from posters and passers-by was that it was another shitty season for buying things — all thanks to the completely crippled, collapsed economy wrought by the war, of course. The foreign kid was at a loss now; it seemed like everyone in this world was so well-acquainted with whatever it was no one need bother aloud with the details. Edward wanted to punch himself out of sheer frustration. There was no one else he could trust to ask. He had no other choice. Resigned to his more-than-likely embarrassing fate, he opened his mouth to interrogate his flatmate about it over breakfast.

"Hey, Alfons...what's — um, what's Christmas?" He stuttered out. So much for being confident. Alfons nearly choked on his coffee.

"What? What do you mean 'what's Christmas?' I know you're not very fond of religion, Ed, but you can't possibly tell me you've never heard of Christmas," Alfons stated with disbelief, staring at his roommate like he was an alien. Ed didn't try to argue the point that he kind of was. He didn't think it would be well-received.

Edward just fidgeted with his hands and shifted awkwardly in his seat under the scrutinizing gaze before he suddenly became defensive; "Well, sorry! I can't help what I don't know! But I keep seeing it everywhere. Just tell me what it is," He demanded. Alfons just kept staring at him for a few more moments then shook his head.

"Honestly, Edward, you've got the longest neck of anyone I've ever seen," it was Ed's turn for befuddled staring now. Alfons continued, "I didn't know it was possible to always have your head so high in the clouds _and_ live under a rock," he laughed. Ed almost did too, not that he would admit it.

"You still haven't answered my question," the displaced boy pouted. Alfons chuckled.

"Christmas is a holiday. It's about giving," he explained, with all the clichés about 'good will towards men' and 'Christmas cheer' intact, "on Christmas Day you're supposed to give gifts to all your loved ones; your family and friends. Spend time with them," he finished. A thoughtful pause occurred.

"So then who's this 'Santa Claus' guy I keep hearing about?" Ed leaned forward with a raised eyebrow. He asked the question so suspiciously Alfons all but burst out laughing.

"That's just for little kids, Ed," he clarified once he got himself under control, "He's a big, jolly guy with a red coat and a long white beard. He's supposed to ride a sleigh guided by flying reindeer. You leave him cookies and milk," Ed screwed up his face, "and he comes down the chimney on Christmas Eve and leaves presents for all the good boys and girls while they're asleep,"

Alfons felt pretty silly saying all of that out loud, and it wasn't hard to tell Ed found it hard to believe. He was looking at Alfons like _he_ was the crazy one. "That's ridiculous," he huffed, "And a little creepy. We don't even _have_ a chimney," the golden-eyed boy pointed out.

"I'll have to read you a Christmas story sometime," was Alfons' only response.

"And so when even _is_ Christmas?" Ed continued. His fellow engineer gave an incredulous sigh, but he did so with a small smile on his face. Ed was really something, sometimes.

"It's on December 25th," he disclosed.

"Every year?"

"Every year," Alfons reassured.

Ed made a humming noise, like he was pondering something, "Okay...so that gives me like a month to get you something...I can do that," he said to himself. Not that Alfons couldn't hear everything he was saying. He perked up a little at that, if he was being honest.

Actually, he was kind of surprised. He knew Ed wasn't from around here — he never seemed to be particularly interested in the surrounding culture either. Alfons would never have guessed the blond boy didn't know what _Christmas_ was though; that had shocked him immensely. 17 years on Earth — well, that was debatable by Ed's standards, not that Alfons took him seriously — and the kid had never once heard of Christmas. How was that even possible? What kind of sheltered existence was this boy living? Alfons felt kind of bad for him.

But, at least he finally looked to be taking tentative steps into the real world. He knew Ed had a profound interest in science (and more...unreasonable things), but that could be hard to relate to sometimes. However, if he was curious about commonplace, _cultural_ events...maybe he had a better chance of talking to people. He'd seem less outcast. Ed rarely took to engaging outside of his own fantasies and personal life; hell, he barely participated in life outside _work_ , so Alfons was happy for him. Maybe he was finally making some progress, even if the only person he'd be getting a present from was Alfons. Edward's antisocial tendencies and quick temper still weren't keen on making friends, it appeared. Perhaps he'd tell him the story of Ebenezer Scrooge, Alfons jokingly mused.

Well, if this was his friend's first Christmas, he'd be sure to get him something special.

* * *

By the time Christmas Eve rolled around, all the presents were wrapped and tucked away safely hidden in their rooms for tomorrow morning. Alfons seemed a little disappointed that they didn't have a tree in the apartment to put them under, which Edward thought that was kind of weird. What would they need a tree for? Alfons talked about how you were supposed to put up a tree and hang ornaments and lights all over it, but that just seemed like a pointless fire hazard to Ed. The trees could stay outside, thank you very much. Alfons still hung stockings over the fireplace-less mantel though.

Even if all the Christmas traditions seemed bizarre and impractical to him, he had to admit there was a good purpose behind it. It wasn't like he could argue that spending time with people you cared about or giving them gifts to show your appreciation for them was a bad thing. It was a great thing actually; it proved that maybe this world wasn't completely heartless. He was confident that he'd gotten Alfons a gift he would love and honestly, he was more excited to give it to him then he was to receive anything. That attitude seemed to be in the 'Christmas spirit' that Alfons was always talking about. Maybe Ed was actually pretty good at this.

Right now though, they were eating a dinner of brats and lasagna. Ed had started making the brats before Alfons could stop him. It wasn't long until Gracia, the landlady, had stopped by to drop off the lasagna she had made for them, also in the 'spirit of Christmas'. Apparently Alfons had expected her to do that, and that was why he'd been baking cookies earlier. They traded off food and their thanks, wished each other a merry Christmas and parted ways. Ed had tried to invite her inside and share the lasagna with them, but she said she was going off to have Christmas Eve roast with her family that evening.

"How come you're not eating dinner with your family, Alfons?" Ed asked him when he shut the door. His roommate seemed to be going all out this holiday season, doing every Christmas-y thing Ed could imagine, yet he hadn't even visited his family.

"Actually, I'm going over to my mother's house for dinner tomorrow," the German boy stated. Alfons set the lasagna down on the table with everything Ed had cooked. He was always grateful for Gracia's cooking; they often got sick of their meager meals — a university student's paycheck couldn't afford very much, especially not these days.

"Oh," Ed said, almost delicately, realizing he'd be eating by himself tomorrow. Edward didn't often eat dinner without Alfons, when they weren't at the lab at least.

But Alfons wasn't finished talking yet, "I was hoping you would come along," he finished. Ed looked at him, dumbfounded.

"What? Why would you want me there?" Ed inquired. Truthfully, Edward was relieved Alfons was inviting him, but on the other hand he was worried; he really didn't want to intrude on his friend's time with his family. Ed didn't belong there with them, it wouldn't feel right.

"C'mon, Ed, do you really think I'd leave you all alone on Christmas Day?" He spoke, seemingly able to read Ed's mind. Alfons knew his eccentric friend had no family whatsoever; if being an orphan on Christmas Day wasn't the saddest thing Alfons could think of, he'd gratefully get a lobotomy so he couldn't come up with anything worse, "Besides, I've told my family a lot about you. They're excited to meet you,"

"You have? They are?" Ed asked, astonished. Why would anyone want to meet him?

"Yeah, you come up a lot in conversation, I guess because they haven't met you yet. They know everyone else on the team so far but you," the blue-eyed boy announced. Ed smirked.

"I see where you get your curiosity from, Alfons," he replied.

Alfons chuckled, "I guess," he said, "So. Are you going to accompany me then?" He queried.

Edward considered it for a minute. Eventually, he reluctantly agreed. He still believed he would be imposing on something private, but he knew Alfons would nag him to go if he said no. Plus, Ed was already pretty forlorn as it was; he really didn't want to be by his lonesome in the apartment, knowing that Alfons' family — that every other loving, _whole_ family — would be enjoying each other's company while Ed sat on the couch and mourned his own. He was worried he might do something stupid if he did that. So, he relented.

"Sure," he agreed, and plastered on a smile for good measure.

* * *

Edward would fervently deny any and all claims that he was overly-excited for his first Christmas; he wasn't some infantile five year-old. If Ed had gotten up a little earlier than was strictly necessary and 'accidentally' woke Alfons up with his racket in the kitchen the next morning, well, it only happened to be a coincidence that it was also December 25th. Luckily, neither boy had to say anything for Alfons to get the hint that Ed wanted him to get out of bed already so they could continue with the day's proceedings.

Very sleepily, a pajama-clad Alfons shuffled into the living room with a mess of bed-head and a cavernous yawn. He was holding a small, plainly wrapped package topped with a bow near his chest. Ed looked very similar, sitting on the couch with a long cylindrical tube — also plainly wrapped with some twine on it — laying at his side. On the coffee table he noticed two mugs of such eponymous substance and two plates of scrambled eggs — just the way Alfond liked them. He smiled.

"Merry Christmas, Ed" he said with still-snoozy, but definitely not false cheer.

"Merry Christmas!" The blond boy wished back, completely awake. Alfons noticed his flatmate's coffee mug was already almost empty; he shook his head and smiled while Ed wasn't paying attention.

Ed reached down next to him and practically shoved Alfons' gift into his lap when he sat down. Alfons chuckled at his over-eager friend and handed him his gift as well. Ed took it but kept watching Alfons.

"You go first," Ed proclaimed.

The golden-eyed boy was watching him intently; Alfons found it pretty amusing. He didn't think he'd ever seen someone over ten years-old this giddy on Christmas morning. He liked to imagine Christmas never wore off, but there was just something different about seeing someone experiencing it for the first time. Alfons almost reveled in the opportunity; he likely was never going to see someone over one years old experience Christmas for the _very first_ time ever again. You really didn't come across someone like Ed very often.

Alfons gently slid the ribbon off the end of the tube and started to carefully tear the brown paper off whatever other paper was likely underneath. Actually, he was surprised to find it was canvas rather than paper. He unrolled it like a scroll and examined what was painted on it. Alfons audibly gasped; the background was a beautiful representation of the night sky that reminded Alfons of why he'd first looked to the stars anyway. In the foreground was what you could call an artist's rendering of the rocket Alfons was currently devoting his entire life to creating. At the very bottom in the left hand corner was lettering so small he almost missed it. It read ' _The sky is not the limit_ '; Alfons grinned – it was obvious Ed had written it, no one else's handwriting was that atrocious. Still, Alfons couldn't be more grateful. It was probably the most sentimental thing Ed had ever given him, the blue-eyed boy was surprised his friend wasn't even a tad embarrassed. For all the emotion Edward showed on a daily basis, this filled his quota for a week.

"Ed, this is amazing, where did you get this?" He exclaimed, turning expectantly to his friend.

"It's funny actually. I never noticed it before, but there's a shop just a few blocks away owned by an artist," — that looked alarmingly like Hawkeye — "and I asked if she took requests. I went by there every day after work," which was why Ed had been leaving a half hour early the past few weeks, "and brought by some of the old, more outdated blueprints to model it after. So, sorry that the rocket's not totally up-to-date, but I didn't want you to get suspicious," Ed explained.

"'Sorry?'" he scoffed, "Ed, this might be the present I've ever gotten! How did you even afford this?" Alfons asked.

Ed shrugged, "I don't know. I didn't have anyone else to buy gifts for," he stated sort of awkwardly. He also just really wanted Alfons to know how much he appreciated him, since he never said it out loud. This was the perfect day for that. Ed had always been bad with words anyway. Alfons had welcomed Ed into his own home without hesitation. Ever since his dad had left, Ed wondered what would've happened to him if he'd not had Alfons. Not to mention he prevented Edward from going insane out of pure loneliness, even if Alfons thought he already _was_ crazy.

"Guess I had extra money to spare. Also the lady gave me a discount because she said I reminded her of someone she knew once," Ed had honestly been shocked at that revelation. He was pretty sure they'd become friends once he disclosed he had the same feeling. He'd have to visit her sometime and wish her a belated merry Christmas. Maybe he'd invite her over for New Year's. Whatever he did, he was sure Alfons would be elated that Ed had found another friend.

They sat there in companionable silence, admiring the artist's handiwork. It really was incredible. Ed thought that if he ever made it back home, he'd have to end up slyly complimenting Hawkeye for it, even if it would be illogical to do so. Oh well, Ed's perception of logic had been skewed a little since coming here anyway. Actually, everything about Ed was a little skewed nowadays. He'd come to terms with it.

"So, are you going to open _your_ present or are we just going to sit here and stare at mine all day?" Alfons joked amicably.

"Oh, right!" Ed exclaimed as he picked up the package off his lap. It was either a book or something contained in a box. As he pulled off the bow and a strip of paper tore off, he saw that it was the former. That already had Ed's pulse beating just a little faster. For how little Ed talked about himself, Alfons sure did know him pretty well. He supposed it was inevitable when you lived in the same house as someone.

When he finally got all the wrapping paper off and Ed saw the cover, his heart did a weird stuttering thing and his eyes went wide at just _how_ well Alfons seemed to know him. It looked to be a rather old book, judging by the worn covers and scuffed edges. The pages were yellowing and it would probably need to be rebound soon, but Edward didn't care about any of those things nearly as much as he cared about what was imprinted on the spine. _Alchemy._

" _How?_ " Ed whispered, eyes never once leaving the aging, delicate cover.

Alfons recounted in his head the good fortune he'd had stumbling across it. He'd strolled down to the flea market a few weeks prior with the intention of getting gifts for Ed, a few other friends, and his family. As he walked down the aisles idly picking at things and looking at handmade crafts or jewelry, he thought about what he could possibly get Ed. He had a pretty good idea of what he'd be getting everyone else, but Ed was so closed off. Alfons didn't know much about the kinds of things he was interested in.

The younger boy had been walking around the market for hours. He was cold and shivering and his fingers were starting to go numb. Alfons thought he could make out small snowflakes in the atmosphere. He supposed he'd have to look harder, at some other time and location, to get a gift for his roommate. But that's when he stumbled upon it. It was just one tiny booth; Alfons had thought about just skipping it entirely — it looked pretty strange, but then again, Ed was a pretty strange guy himself, so who knew? He walked over to judge for himself.

He felt a little silly at first, browsing over everything in the little set up. Everything this man was selling was based in superstition and the occult; crystals, palm readings, divination tactics. Both boys were scientists; Ed wouldn't be able to appreciate any of the things this guy had to offer. He was turning to leave, to start heading back to the apartment until he noticed a stack of old books in the corner. The very first one he'd picked up was the one he'd given Ed.

Alfons stood in that corner, just holding that book for so long he was sure the shop owner was going to eighty-six him. However, he was still apprehensive about purchasing a book on alchemy for Edward. His delusional friend would often rant about the principles of it and how useful it was. The long-winded speeches were constantly brought about by all the faulty appliances in their apartment; the stoves and the plumbing were always breaking down. Alfons really didn't want to feed into his flatmate's illness; he didn't want Ed to think he was condoning any of his false beliefs; but at the same time, Ed always talked about alchemy in conjunction with his 'home', like it was something familiar to him. Alfons would've been murdered by Edward for even thinking it, but he knew Ed was insecure about his situation. It was simply because, to Ed, everything was alien and inconceivable. Assimilation didn't seem to be his friend's forté — not that he really ever _tried_ — and it was making life a lot harder for Ed in terms of fitting in and feeling comfortable around other people. That was why he kept to himself, Alfons knew.

Well, Ed was miserable enough most of the time; the German boy supposed this might brighten up his Christmas considerably. Against his better judgement, Alfons swiftly paid for the old tome and headed back. He hoped he knew what he was doing.

Judging by Ed's reaction to his gift, this was either the epitome of success or something had gone terribly wrong. Edward was speechless. He wasn't saying anything (not like he ever really did) and Alfons couldn't gauge if he'd somehow screwed up or if Ed was just that floored.

"How did you find this? _Where_ did you find this? Alfons, I...I don't know what to say," Ed stated. He kept turning the book over and over in his hands and carefully flipping through the pages as if he couldn't believe it was a real, tangible object, "This is great," he whispered, "Thank you. I really can't believe you got me this," he spoke softly, though he grinned so hard Alfons thought his face had to hurt from the strain of it.

"You're very welcome, Ed," Alfons replied. Any previous doubts or hesitance he'd had to give Edward the book seemed ridiculous, in retrospect. His roommate was standing on top of the world right now with that book in his clutches. He looked genuinely content for once. Alfons almost couldn't believe he'd thought about _not_ giving it to him.

They sat quietly, finishing off their breakfast and marveling over each other's gifts. Alfons considered where the best place to hang this piece of art would be; at the apartment or at the lab? Edward thumbed through the book. It was all basic alchemy he already knew, but he was so desperate for things to be like how they always were that he couldn't take his eyes off the page. He could almost pretend the physical presence sitting adjacent to him was his brother, and they were back home, studying alchemy like they always did together. It was a nice illusion.

They weren't due to arrive at Alfons' mother's house for another 8 hours, so they had time to kill. It was a quiet day, both inside and outside of the apartment. No one was outside; all the shops were closed. The streets were empty and snow-covered, making light from the sun reflect off the layer of white and creating an infinitely brighter day. Cars rarely passed by. Both scientists lounged in the living room, reading books or the newspaper. Actually, Alfons was only half-focusing on the things he read; he'd always stop to glance at the painting sitting on the table, just to take pride in it. Edward read and re-read his newly owned book like he'd never be sick of it. He probably wouldn't, not as long as he was here. Ed was completely lost to any world while reading and, today especially, he didn't plan to be found again for awhile. He wanted to revel in the peace he felt.

Right now, this world truly was soft, silent, and sufferable. If only it would've stayed that way.

* * *

 **A/N:** To be continued (please drop a review! keeps me goin')


	2. Part II

**A/N:** well. i am so sorry for that terribly misleading fluffy prologue - its now time for the soul-crushing angst (the REAL purpose of this fic). at least i hope it's soul crushing. this entire fic got way out of hand. i just cant stop.

* * *

For Ed, time passed much too quickly before the clock chimed 5:00 pm and they had to be on their way. The former alchemist was reluctant to put down the book and, instead of abandoning it in the apartment, tucked it safely into his inner coat pocket and brought it with him. It was likely he wouldn't get a chance to read it at Mrs. Heiderich's place, but it was enough just to know it was with him. Alfons gave Ed a look he couldn't quite place.

Without much talking, they ambled down the stairs of the apartment and out into the biting December air. Alfons followed behind Edward, letting him set the pace. The younger boy wordlessly watched as Ed climbed in the backseat, understanding that Alfons would be driving. Somehow, it had become an unspoken agreement that while Ed drove a majority of the year, Alfons was needed to drive in colder climates. While Edward didn't often complain outright, he knew in colder and inclimate weather Ed's prosthetics tended to stiffen, becoming harder to move and what remained of his torn up limbs always ached. It made him slow to react and it lead to rather distracted driving as well. It became Alfons' responsibility to drive in the winter.

It was probably for the best; Ed could be a bit of a reckless driver in the best conditions. Even in this slick weather, Alfons couldn't stop the car from skidding a little, but he always got control back quickly. He didn't want to know what would've happened if Ed was at the wheel, especially if he was hindered in some capacity.

Alfons glanced in the rearview mirror as he started the car and noticed Ed had pulled the book out of his pocket again and continued to skim through it. He was simultaneously digging into his right shoulder, trying to alleviate some of the pain. Alfons shifted his attention back to what was in front of him as he pulled onto a road barely illuminated by street lights. It was hard to imagine his friend was actually trying to read in this crummy lighting, but Alfons didn't try to stop him.

It was a quiet journey out into the suburbs of Munich. Alfons didn't mind — it was easier to concentrate on the roadway ahead. The streets hadn't been cleared and it was rather treacherous to be driving right now, so the scientist drove slowly and cautiously. He might be a bit late. His mother lived fairly far away and Alfons hadn't been able to visit her much with all the work that had piled up. He was glad to take a break for a little while.

The dirt roads they were traveling on we're monotonous and bumpy, but in a way it was almost calming. They moved ahead at a sluggish pace, not making it to their intended destination until almost 20 minutes after they were due to arrive. Alfons parked the car on the street in front of a modest one-story house. The blue-eyed boy shifted in his seat to turn back and look at Ed.

"I almost forgot to tell you — my cousin and her parents are going to be here also. I hope you don't mind," Alfons smiled.

Ed looked up from where he was squinting at the pages, "Sure, I don't mind at all," he replied. He could handle a few more people.

"Good," Alfons beamed, "I'm sure they'll be glad to meet you,"

The younger boy stepped out of the car and helped his friend out as well. They sauntered up the walkway and stopped in front of a large, dark mahogany door with a wreath placed neatly in the center. Ed studied the old house. It was small, but it was well-kept and in good condition. Billows of smoke were floating up into the night sky, curling upwards from the chimney. The lights were on in almost every room and you could hear muffled laughter emanating from inside. It radiated light and warmth — a stark contrast to the dark, freezing atmosphere outside. Ed shivered.

Alfons was holding in one hand a cleanly wrapped gift that he'd bought for his mother. Ed knew what it was. His roommate had spent hours scouring different jewelry shops, with Ed in tow, searching for the nicest locket he could afford. Edward had quickly lost interest until Alfons had narrowed his efforts down to five necklaces. He had called his friend over to the jewelry counter and asked his opinion, but Ed had only stated that Alfons knew his mother best, so it should be his decision.

"Well, what would you get if it was for your mother?" Alfons had asked him next, which got Ed thinking. He looked closely and decided almost immediately on a clean, gold, oval-shaped locket with very fine flowers engraved into the surface. His mother had always loved flowers.

It had turned out to be the most expensive of the five, but Alfons didn't seem to care. Ed thought he wouldn't have cared either if it was for his mom. When they got back to the apartment, Alfons slid a photo of him on one side and a photo of his parents on the other side of the locket. His father had died in the war and he knew his mother still missed him terribly. Alfons did, too.

With his free hand, Alfons knocked politely on the door.

No amount of time could've prepared Ed for who answered it.

Light from inside flooded onto the porch, creating a silhouette of the woman who answered. Ed's eyes quickly adjusted and with it his heart rate and breathing followed too. His eyes widened. His hand started shaking. He could swear his heart had stuttered and then failed him, even though his pulse was stampeding through his ears. He was suddenly dying of thirst; his mouth felt like a desert and all the water that should have been there had retreated out through his pores. He almost wanted to run away but his legs didn't seem to be working. He thought maybe they were about to give out on him.

"Mom?" Ed mouthed inaudibly, horrified. No one noticed.

"Come on in, boys," she greeted, "Everyone else is already here,"

They were ushered inside. Ed swallowed. They were standing in the atrium with Mrs. Heiderich and Ed was _afraid_. He didn't even know what he was so scared of, but he was. Alfons began the introductions.

"Edward, this is my mother," he turned to her, "Mom, this is my friend, Ed,"

Trisha held out her hand and smiled at Ed, even though he was sure he was gaping. Gently, he held out his fake arm and weakly shook her slender fingers. He didn't want to hurt her. Not again. Not ever again.

His mom's face changed to accommodate a more confused expression, but only briefly as she realized the hand she'd grasped was fake.

"Nice to meet you, Edward," she gave a warm, genuine smile.

Ed almost forgot to say anything at all, "Oh — uh, n-no, the pleasure's a-all mine," it was almost a whisper.

Mrs. Heiderich turned to Alfons and gave him a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek. The blue-eyed boy looked sheepish as she pulled away, slightly embarrassed. Ed felt something twist in his gut, though his expression remained unchanged. It felt almost like a mixture of loneliness, yearning, and...jealousy.

Here was his mother, giving all her affection to her son — her _only_ son, a son that wasn't him, wasn't Edward. It hurt all the worse because Alfons looked so much like his brother. Here was his beloved mother, who recognized Alfons and loved him; loved Edward's brother, but not Ed. The golden-haired boy cherished his mother to no end, but here, he meant nothing to her. He was just a stranger, and his mother didn't care about him or even know who he was. He suddenly felt alienated, like his family had cast him away and forgotten who he was entirely. It felt like he was standing on the outside, looking through a scratched-up, battered window. He stood there on the outside, watching Alfons and a mother that should've been _his_ while trying to push away all the irrational anger he felt at them for not including him. This wasn't his family, he had no right to be angry, he had no right to be envious. He didn't belong here.

"Alfons, dear, why don't you introduce Edward to everyone else while I go finish up cooking, hm?" She proposed.

"Are you sure you don't need any help? I could help set up the table," the German boy offered.

"No, that's alright," she smiled — Ed's heart ached — "I've got it taken care of. But thank you,"

She swiveled on her heel to make her way back to the kitchen, "Oh, wait! Mom," Alfons extended his hand, "This is for you. Merry Christmas," he cheered.

Trisha accepted the gift and lightly pecked Alfons on the forehead, "Thank you, sweetheart. I'll open it after dinner," she spoke softly. Alfons nodded. Mrs. Heiderich walked off into the kitchen.

The younger boy turned to Ed and gave him a weird, concerned-looking grin, "Are you okay, Ed? You look kind of pale,"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Yeah, I'm alright. I'm fine," he announced. He was sweating. His mind was moving a mile a minute but he still couldn't piece together a single coherent thought.

"Okay," Alfons didn't seem convinced, "Are you ready to meet everyone else, then?"

"Sure," Ed said uncertainly, putting on the most convincing smile he could muster up.

Alfons hung his coat in the closet along with Ed's, then turned, silently beckoning Edward to follow him. Edward could hear people talking in the next room over. Alfons strolled into the room a few paces ahead of Ed, in time for him to hear, but not see, a man loudly greet him with "Alfons! Long time, no see!" followed by a good-natured laugh. The shorter boy thought the voice sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn't place it. It reminded him of something from his childhood; nebulous memories skirted the fringes of his mind, but he still couldn't recall anything very clearly.

Alfons waved him into the living room; Ed hadn't realized he'd stopped just short of clearing the corner. He took a few strides towards Alfons before looking up to get a glimpse of the room's occupants. He stood shoulder to shoulder with Alfons and took in the scene.

"Everyone, meet Edward,"

Ed froze. He stopped breathing. He didn't dare make a sound. His heart might've been racing before, but now it had slammed on the breaks and was trying to viciously claw it's way out of his chest. All the color drained from his skin and his stomach dropped ten stories. His eyes were wide as saucers and he couldn't stop them from darting around the room. He tried to glance at each person for more than a second, but his brain just wouldn't let him. It was too much for him, he couldn't handle it. This wasn't real. Ed felt weak. He felt light-headed and nauseous. He thought for sure he was about to pass out, or collapse, maybe even throw up a little. His knees were shaking with the urge to run away, get away from things he didn't understand and couldn't control.

 _I shouldn't have come here. I should never have come here. I have to leave. I can't stay here, I can't, I can't, I can't, I_ can't.

His clothes were suddenly much too tight, even though he felt cold as ice and his bones weren't much sturdier than jelly. He was shaking so hard he was sure Alfons could feel it against his shoulder. His fake fingers rattled together with the force of his trembling. Ed took a shallow, wavering breath and tried to start his heart again with sheer force of will. It wasn't working. He felt like he was dying but no one seemed very concerned. He started panicking. Ed wanted to hide, or disappear or run away — just _get out_ of here. But he couldn't move. None of his limbs were responding. He was frozen in place and why couldn't he move, dammit! This couldn't be real. He had to be dreaming or hallucinating or _something_. He felt dizzy, he took a step back to balance himself. How was he still standing? How was this happening to him? Why?

"No. No, please, no. No no no no," he breathed. This just couldn't be happening.

"Ed, this is my cousin Winry, my Aunt Sara, and my Uncle Urey,"

Alarms were going off in his head that refused be silenced. This was all wrong. This was so completely wrong and morbid and utterly unfathomable. At least half the people in this house should be dead. Ed was alive (right?) and he was walking through a graveyard. This wasn't some benign family reunion he'd been invited to, this was a dinner for ghosts. He was an unwitting guest here to receive judgment from unwitting tormentors. This was part of the nightmare he'd been sentenced to serve for breaking taboos again and sinning like he was impudent. He wasn't. If it hadn't been obvious before, it certainly was now.

Alfons subtly elbowed him, trying to get him to say something. Ed took another step back and raised his arms up slightly, almost as if in defense.

"Uh — um, h-hi," Ed whispered. He cleared his throat to try again, "Hello," he said, a little louder. It got stuck in his throat though and came out high-pitched and timid. Everyone gave him a strange look. Edward wished they would stop staring at him, it burned holes into his flesh. He couldn't stand having their eyes on him, his skin was crawling; he wanted a large crevice to crack open in the earth and drag him under. It was too much, this was too much. Alfons pulled him aside and spoke softly, so the others couldn't hear.

"Seriously, Ed, is something wrong? You can tell me, you know. You look like you've just seen a ghost," his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

Ed huffed a nervous laugh, eyes darting everywhere but his roommate, "Really? Huh...funny," he said, still scattered mentally. Edward was looking just over Alfons' shoulder, focusing on the wall. Alfons shook him by the shoulders.

"Edward, seriously! You've got to snap out of it," he ordered.

"Alfons, I-I don't...I can't..." He was practically whimpering. Ed didn't know what to say or how to say it. His mouth wasn't working, neither was his brain — he was still reeling. Alfons tried to coax more of a response out of him, but Ed clammed up. Alfons wasn't sure what to do. He didn't know a lot of things when it came to Edward.

Somehow, eventually, without Ed even realizing it, they made their way back into the living room. The tension was tangible and the silence was awkward. Alfons sat on one end of the couch while Ed sat as far away from him — and everyone else — as possible. If he was going to keep his sanity intact, he couldn't afford to be too close, mentally or physically. The closer he was the realer it became and he already thought he was about to tip over the edge. He tried to make himself small and invisible, which was pretty hard when everyone was watching your every move. He squirmed under their scrutinizing eyes. All he could think was ' _Go away, please just go away,'_

They tried to ask him questions like where he was from, how he had met Alfons, and all the rest. Ed gave answers best he could, answers he thought Alfons would find reasonable. He knew they thought something was wrong with him and he didn't want to give them any more reason to think that. He tried to seem normal and friendly, but his attempts were only mildly successful. He couldn't think clearly at all. His answers were quiet and shy and so much unlike himself; sometimes Alfons intervened on his behalf when Ed stuttered too much or started rambling. Why couldn't he pull himself together? How had he become such a mess in such a short period of time?

Eventually, the topic shifted away from him onto the other kids in the room. They asked Alfons how his research was going and he asked in turn what Winry was up to in school. Ed breathed a sigh of relief, but he was still shaking soundlessly and trying not to go off the deep end. He observed everyone as they had done to him.

The first thing that caught his eye was Winry. She was so young; she couldn't have been much older than thirteen. She was bright and alive and while she seemed wary of Edward she still flashed him friendly smiles when no one else was looking. Ed's chest felt heavy and his throat felt tight as he tried to return the gesture. She seemed so small and vulnerable; his overprotective instincts were starting to kick in. He wondered if this Winry was capable of knocking down full grown men with a wrench, or if she was even interested in such things. Ed wondered what the other Winry, his Winry, was doing right now.

He looked over at Sara and Urey who were discussing something animatedly with his roommate. They were sitting next to one another, Sara tucked lovingly under Urey's arm. Ed could see the love they had for each other shining deep in their eyes. They were just like how he remembered Winry's parents; always lively and loving, very intelligent. They were a perfect duo, they made for an amazing team. Ed wondered why they'd had to die. Edward wondered why the least deserving people always had their lives cut short while the sinners and the fuck-ups were allowed to keep breaking taboos and ruining lives they had no right to touch.

"It's ready!" Trisha called from the dining room.

Ed waited until everyone had gotten up and walked past him before he pushed himself off the couch with his still-aching joints. He couldn't get too near to them. That task became impossible as they crowded into the cramped, but still elegantly decorated dining room. Everyone took their place at the table. Mrs. Heiderich and Alfons sat on one side, while Sara and Urey sat opposite them. Winry and Ed sat at the long ends of the table, facing each other.

All the dishes were nicely arranged. There was a beautifully cooked duck on the table that served as the main éntree and as a centerpiece. There was a bottle of wine for those who were old enough. Gravy sat at Ed's end of the table. There was a bowl of salad and a basket of rolls with butter near the other end. Scattered around were side dishes of mashed potatoes and other cooked vegetables. It all looked delicious, but Edward wasn't hungry. He couldn't even think about food right now. In fact, he still felt a little sick to his stomach.

He watched as food piled up on his plate. He watched, but he wasn't paying attention. He couldn't focus on anything except the fact that he was here, in this room, with these people. He desperately wanted to vanish and forget he'd ever been here. This whole thing was some cruel, perverted joke. It was sick and Edward didn't want anything to do with it. Ed didn't want to be here. He didn't want to be around such familiar faces when they were all _fakes_. It was a mockery, and only Ed knew it. It was disrespectful to his friends and family back home for these _things_ to take on their images when they were so obviously false. These people weren't _real_ — they were macabre substitutes that only survived to haunt him. That was the only point. This whole world only existed to punish and make fun of him. Ed was being taunted and tortured, yet no one could see him falling apart or hear him screaming.

Ed's head felt full. There were so many thoughts, and they were all so loud, too. They were shouting at him. The urge to slap his hands over his ears, ball up, and shut his eyes tight so that maybe he would stop hearing all these voices was maddening. Some were telling him to flee, others to hide. Some ordered him to panic (as if he wasn't already) or lash out in a rage; hurt them, fight back. More still pleaded with him to pretend he wasn't here. There were a few scary ones — monsters in his head, ones that had only grown more powerful since his expulsion — trying to make him think he wasn't even real, that he didn't exist and had always been undeserving of life anyway. He'd been sent to hell for a reason, after all. He cowered away.

Some begged him to believe that he was actually back home, back in time, sitting with his actual mother, his actual brother, his real friends and family. It would be easier that way — if he could just drown himself in that delusion then he would be safe. Ed wouldn't have to worry about breaking down in front of everyone if he could just embrace the lie that these people cared about him, loved him, would do anything for him and that he would do so in return. But it was just a scandalous falsehood. They didn't give a rat's ass about some "disturbed" foreign kid. All the faces beloved to him were here, laughing and talking and joking — about him? Were they staring at him? What were they saying? Ed couldn't tell, couldn't focus, couldn't hear, couldn't _know!_ — but he was aware he came last on their list of priorities.

He was losing it, plain and simple. Every minute that passed by was one more step he took away from reality. This couldn't be real. He had to be making this up. His mother was dead, Winry's parents were dead, his brother might even be dead too, for all he knew. Winry was supposed to be much older. Ed was the only one who hadn't changed, right? He was real, wasn't he? But now, he was sitting at a table full of skeletons. He looked at Winry and her family; he felt a shiver run up his spine at the surrealness of it. Sara and Urey had been dead for years, but Ed was eating dinner with them? It didn't make sense. He looked over at his mother. She had no idea the horrors that Ed had committed. He longed to reach out to her, pretend for even a moment that she was his, that Ed had never done such unspeakable things and defiled her. Maybe she would forgive him. She didn't know just how despicable Ed was, but maybe she could absolve him anyway. Edward didn't deserve any kindness from her, he knew, but that didn't stop the ache deep in his chest, in his heart, in his battered soul.

He was quiet, completely silent as lively conversation was thrown back and forth around the table. To an outsider, it appeared he was just casually observing, but Edward was far more detached from this scenario. Not much else was registering in his mind except a mantra of _not real, not real, not real_. His eyes were starting to water without his knowledge or consent. What was going on? Why was he so confused? Why did everything have to hurt so much? Ed just wanted to sleep now. He was tired, exhausted, weary from constantly battling all the demons surrounding him, inside and out. Frustrated, overburdened tears started to well in his eyes as he stared down at his mostly-forgotten food.

His mother gently laid a hand on his, the distress was clear on his face. Edward flinched hard but didn't pull away.

"Are you alright, dear?" She leaned over and asked concernedly in her warm, caring, motherly tone. Ed looked at her, felt his mouth moving up and down even though no sound came forth. He felt a tear slip out and run down his cheek. Trisha reached up to thumb it away.

"I-I...Excuse me," the distraught boy bolted out of his chair, almost knocking it over, and fled into the kitchen. Once he was out of sight, Mrs. Heiderich turned to her son.

"I know you said Edward was a little unusual, Alfons, but are you sure he's alright? Do you need to check on him?" She suggested.

"I'm sorry, mom, really. He's not usually this out of sorts — he won't tell me what's bothering him," Alfons explained.

"Just go check on him. See if he's okay; I'm worried about him," Trisha patted her son on the shoulder as he rose to go find Ed.

When Alfons walked into the kitchen he saw Edward standing, facing the wall, leaning over the sink with his shoulders hunched and his bangs hiding his face.

"Hey, Ed? You alright?" He spoke lowly, so as not to be overheard.

The older boy whipped around, startled, like he hadn't expected to be followed. Tears were streaming fast down his face, though his expression remained stoic and otherwise unreadable.

"Alfons...those people...I know those people," the German kid gave him a baffled look, "I know them...I know them from back home," he proclaimed softly. It sounded like he was pleading with him. Ed couldn't stop trembling.

"Edward," Alfons sighed sadly. His friend was confused again.

"No! Alfons, please!" he begged, "I'm not making this up! I'm not lying, I-I'm not crazy!"

"I never said you were,"

"But you don't believe me," he hissed with little conviction as he stared at his feet. No one said anything for a moment. Alfons was at a loss. He didn't want to lie.

"I'm sorry, Ed, really. I don't know what to say,"

"It's okay; I probably wouldn't believe me either," he conceded. He chuckled humorlessly.

There was a long, thoughtful silence.

"Well...do you want to come back to the table?" Ed's head shot up with a frightened expression, "Is that a no?" Alfons guessed.

Ed quickly shook his head once and rubbed his eyes, "No, no...I just — need to get my bearings. Just give me a minute, I'll be there soon," he reassured.

"Alright, then. Are you sure you don't need anything?" he asked one last time, worried and nervous about leaving his friend by himself.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Ed said kind of breathlessly, "I just need a moment," Alfons nodded and walked out.

Finally, Ed was alone. He could just take a second to breath and collect himself again. He turned back around to face the wall and get a grip on the counter and himself. Now that he wasn't surrounded by all these surreal faces he could think more clearly.

Of course this was real, as much as Edward wished it wasn't. Just because he hadn't expected it didn't mean it wasn't possible. He almost shouldn't have been surprised that they were all here, especially with the way the universe favored his pain. He was sure somewhere, some asshole god was just sitting there laughing at his anguish. Ed couldn't help it — It was just so abrupt; it was too much to take in at once, too much to process. All the emotional abuse was getting to be a little excessive for Ed today.

He just had to hold himself together long enough to get through the night, then he could fall apart if he needed to. Just because a seam or two had ripped a little early didn't mean he couldn't do a patch job right now and fix it more expertly later. Yeah, he could do that. He could keep himself together for a little longer, have a nervous breakdown at home, and then right himself. He would be okay. He'd been through a lot worse. He nodded to himself, solidifying this plan in his mind, and took a deep breath before re-entering the dining room.

He sat back down in his designated chair and tried not to hyperventilate. It was working so far, despite the senseless fear gnawing at his core. He looked up and, surprisingly, no one was staring at him. Ed was grateful for that and heaved a sigh of relief. Maybe he could do this after all. Now that he'd had a chance to calm himself down, it felt a little more manageable.

He studied his mother sitting next to him, trying to keep himself under control. She was beautiful, just like Ed remembered. He tried his best to appreciate this moment — this second chance to see her, be near her — even if it scared the hell out of him too. It was so far beyond his grasp; he missed her so damn much. His heart ached even worse being so close to her. He didn't deserve a chance to see his mother again, not after what he'd done. He would screw something up, he was sure of it. But just the idea that in this universe his kind, beloved mother — who deserved every good thing this world had to offer — was still alive and well was enough to bring tears to his eyes. He wouldn't let them fall, though; not here, not now.

Edward refocused his attention back to the rest of the table just in time to genuinely laugh at a joke Sara had made. It surprised him, how heartfelt that emotion was. Perhaps this dinner wasn't as bad as he'd thought it to be in his overwhelming panic. He should at least try to take time to enjoy the presence of long-lost family friends — he may never be able to again. Most people would kill for a chance like this, but Ed was ungrateful as always.

It was miraculous, really, how easy conversation flowed around the table after that. Ed joined in occasionally; he even made a joke at one point that got a loud, sincere laugh out of Urey. Ed smiled. It was still odd; being immersed in dinner conversation with such impossible people, but Edward was still able to enjoy it, to some extent. He was able to talk easily enough now that he thought that he'd mostly made up for his unsociable attitude earlier in the night. Everyone else seemed slightly more comfortable around him since he'd reappeared from the kitchen. Maybe this was all okay. Maybe he'd overreacted before. He should indulge in this kind of opportunity, he supposed.

By the time everyone was finished with dinner, they had moved back into the living room where Alfons had kindled a fire underneath the mantel. Everyone around him was gossiping and laughing, and Ed felt almost at peace. Almost. He was still kind of caught in the unreal feeling of his situation.

Alfons went to sit on the couch next to Ed, sandwiching him between his roommate and Winry, who he'd actually made a solid start on conversation with. It was interrupted when he heard Trisha gasp.

"This is beautiful," she exclaimed, having unwrapped the gift Alfons had given her earlier. She was holding the locket under the light in order to more closely examine it, "The detail is amazing. Thank you so much, Alfons,"

"You can thank Ed, too," the younger boy claimed, "He helped me pick it out,"

Trisha gave him a genuine, heartwarming smile that expressed all her gratitude without needing to say a thing. Ed sent a sheepish smile back.

"You don't have to thank me for anything. It's nothing," he insisted. Why had Alfons told her that? He didn't deserve any credit.

"Well, still — thank you both," she expressed as she clutched the necklace to her chest, "It's lovely," both boys blushed faintly at the praise.

Alfons received a present from his mother as well, which he was very grateful for. She had gotten him a very pristine suit; she knew her son was often making presentations in front of very important people and she knew this would help impress potential sponsors.

All the companionable chatter in the room resumed shortly afterwards. Edward found it wasn't so bad. He found out that Winry was in fact interested in mechanics and machinery. She disclosed that she had hopes to develop better models of prosthetics for soldiers who had lost limbs in the war. Ed chose that perfect moment to tell her his arm and leg were fake. He was blasted with nostalgia when her eyes lit up and she practically squealed in excitement, urging him to let her take a look at them. Sara told her not to be so impolite but Ed just laughed and rolled up his sleeve. Winry had a field day.

They all spoke long into the night, so much so that it wasn't long until Alfons couldn't stop yawning. Ed nudged him a little.

"Hey," he said softly, "you ready to get going? I don't want you falling asleep at the wheel,"

Alfons yawned once more and stretched, "Sure, that's probably a good idea," he started to rise and Edward followed his lead.

"Going so soon?" Trisha asked when she noticed their movement.

"Afraid so, mom,"

"Let me walk you to the door," Mrs. Heiderich made to stand and everyone else followed as well.

They all walked into the foyer; Alfons grabbed both of their coats and handed Ed his. The older boy stood to the side while Alfons and his mother said their goodbyes. His friend promised to visit again soon. The Rockbell family approached Ed and shook his hand as they parted ways.

"It was very nice to meet you, Edward," Sara told him. Ed returned the sentiment.

"And if you ever need any kind of repair or anything, you just call me, okay? I'll be happy to fix it for you," Winry explained about his artificial limbs. He promised her he would.

Urey came up to him after the others moved back and placed a strong, steady hand on his shoulder. He spoke a little more softly, "Sorry you had such a rough night tonight, Ed. I hope the rest of it goes alright," he said.

Ed rubbed the back of his neck and gave a slightly embarrassed smile, "I'll be fine. I will. Thank you, though," he replied sincerely. They shook hands and Ed started out the door behind Alfons, having noticed he was already making his way back to the car and not wanting to be left behind.

"Wait a minute, Edward," Trisha called behind him.

Ed turned around and stood in the doorway. He watched as the Rockbell family moved back into the living room. Trisha was standing with her hands behind her back.

Mrs. Heiderich knew this poor boy had no family to speak of. She also knew he was having a hard time adjusting to his move here; now that he'd come to visit, it was obvious that was an understatement. Her son had told her many things about his roommate, and she had soft spot for children. Especially those who seemed lonely.

"Here," she held out her hands, clasped in which was a thin leather-bound book with a festive bow on top just for show, "Merry Christmas!" She smiled warmly at him.

Ed was taken aback. He was getting a second gift? "You...you don't — I mean, I-I didn't...you didn't have to get me a present," he finally uttered, confusedly, "I didn't even get you anything," equivalent exchange reared it's ugly head.

"That's quite alright, dear," her smile broadened, "Take it,"

Ed, still uncertain, tentatively reached out to take the book and held it delicately in his grasp. He looked at the title. It was a copy of Shakespeare's _Hamlet._ The blond-haired boy found that oddly fitting; a small, crooked smile graced his expression briefly.

"Alfons told me you liked to read," she explained.

Edward looked up at her. Her eyes were bright and sincere. She was always so caring and warm, and even when Ed was just a stranger to her, she was still so kindhearted and inviting. She was so loving and generous and _good_ that Ed's whole soul ached when he thought about how she wasn't really his. His heart hurt almost unbearably when he realized that he would never be, and never had been, good enough to be her son. He didn't deserve to be loved by her. He was as unworthy as the trash on the ground; his mother shouldn't burden herself with all his mistakes, not like she had the last time, not again. It wasn't fair to her. How could someone whose core was so wholeheartedly benevolent be related to something as vile and rotten as Edward? His vision started to swim in spite of his resolve.

"Thank you...so much," he whispered, his head turned downwards. He didn't know what to say.

To his great shock, Ed felt arms wrap around his shoulders and found his face buried in the crook of his mother's neck. The embrace was gentle, but it was firm and for once in his rocky, unsure existence, he felt safe. Cautiously, he wrapped his own arms around her small frame, afraid she might disappear if held on too tight. He squeezed his eyes shut. When was the last time he'd ever been hugged? He didn't let people get close enough to touch him; usually when they did, it meant nothing but more pain. Suddenly, he felt all the facades, walls, and barricades he'd been building for years crumble and shatter in a matter of seconds. It was as if some sort of floodgate had been opened.

"I'm so sorry...I'm so sorry," he gasped into her neck, "Please forgive me, I'm so sorry,"

Trisha had a feeling this was more than just about tonight. She didn't know all the things he was apologizing for, but she didn't need too. She felt in her gut that it was important; a mother's instincts weren't often wrong.

"It's okay, sweetheart, it's alright," she whispered into his hair, "I forgive you, you don't have to worry," she cradled his head to her shoulder for a moment before pulling back slightly.

That was all Ed had ever wanted to hear. Those were the only words he'd needed to hear his entire life. They were words he never deserved to hear, but it was all he'd ever wanted. He felt just a sliver of all the weight he'd carried for years fall off his heavy, slumped, exhausted shoulders. He could breathe just a little easier, and even if it was only by a fraction, it felt like a world had been lifted from his guilty conscience. He took a deep breath, he almost felt free.

His eyes were wide and watery, but he wasn't crying. Trisha brushed his bangs out of the way, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear and lightly, she placed her lips to his forehead.

"And if you ever need someone to talk to, or anything at all, I'll always be here for you, okay?" Ed just nodded and hugged her a little more tightly before letting go completely, "You have a good rest of the night, Edward. Visit again soon, alright? You're always welcome here," she told him gently.

"Thank you. You don't know how much this means to me. Thank you," he said as a parting, on the verge of tears. He gave her one last grateful, watery smile before turning to go back to the car, book in hand.

Alfons had been watching the scene since it began, though he'd been mostly out of earshot. He feigned ignorance of the event to spare Ed any potential embarrassment. It had been a private moment, after all. His friend didn't say anything as he climbed in the back, he was quiet, but it was a content kind of silence. Alfons started the car and glanced back at Ed through the rearview mirror, glad his friend had found some peace for once. Ed was smiling to himself, oblivious to Alfons. He noticed something glint in the moonlight on Ed's right cheek, but he would pretend he never saw it.

And if you asked him why silent tears had been streaming down Ed's face the whole way back home, well, Alfons wouldn't have known what you were talking about.

* * *

 **A/N:** tell me whatcha think!


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